


modernity has failed us

by to-the-moon (ukiyonoir)



Series: tsukkiyama week 2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Art, Artist Yamaguchi Tadashi, Gen, M/M, Poetry, literature student tsukishima kei, please leave a comment if you enjoy !!, tsukishima kei is a poet, yamaguchi tadashi centric, yamaguchi tadashi is in love with his best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26104723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukiyonoir/pseuds/to-the-moon
Summary: Literature student Tsukishima Kei sends art student Yamaguchi Tadashi poems inspiring his multiple artworks and finally shows up at his exhibition opening to reveal his identity.orFive times Yamaguchi Tadashi finds handwritten poems in his mailbox, and one time he finds out who’s been sending them to him.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: tsukkiyama week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892173
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60
Collections: TsukkiYama Week 2020





	modernity has failed us

(1)

Five weeks before his art showcase, Yamaguchi Tadashi receives an unmarked envelope in his mailbox. It’s a peach envelope, unsealed, and when he opens it, a small piece of paper flutters to the ground. He leans down and grabs it before the wind has a chance to take it hostage. When he properly looks at it, he stares. He’s confused. It seems to just be a torn piece of a newspaper, but, oh — when he brings it closer to his face, he spots writing scrawled in the margins. It’s beautiful, but messy, so he takes a moment to decipher certain words and piece the separate lines together.

_ bright eyes & bashful smiles _

_ as the night grows old _

_ a hundred and one desires _

_ leave memories tenfold _

Oddly enough, Tadashi decides he doesn’t have the time to focus on the origin of the envelope and the poem. Instead, he admires its raw beauty, and he wonders if there is a deeper meaning than the one on the surface. When he visits his art studio late that night, he attaches it to his idea board with a thumbtack. After, he pulls out a blank 4x6 canvas, dims the lights, turns on his favorite lofi playlist —the one his best friend, Tsukishima Kei, recommended, of course—and begins to paint. While he does so, he revisits the poem as its lines run through his mind. 

_ a hundred and one desires. _

Tadashi doesn’t think he’s ever had that many things to wish for. At this point in time, there’s really only three things on his mind: his art exhibition that’s in just over a month’s time, how he’ll manage to pay his next electric bill, and the fact that he’s painfully in love with someone out of his league. 

Later that evening when he leaves, a half-finished painting of two figures looking out at the night sky waits for him to return.

(2)

The second poem shows up in Yamaguchi Tadashi’s mailbox four weeks before his showcase. This time, it comes in a light blue envelope, one that complements the peach envelope he now keeps in his desk drawer. He expects this next poem to be written on newspaper again, so he’s surprised when he pulls out a small piece of paper with a math equation on the front. He flips it over and finds the second poem. When he’s done reading, he stands, mouth agape at the words in front of him.

_ missing you has become a game _

_ that i cannot quit _

_ i am chasing after _

_ these thoughts and feelings _

_ with too many unknown variables _

_ in the equation of love _

It’s breathtaking. Once again, Tadashi finds himself filled with the desire to create a piece inspired by the handwriting covering the back of the page. So he does.

At his studio, he pins the second poem next to the first and observes the painting he finished two days ago. For the next piece in his final collection for his showcase, he decides to paint again, but instead of painting realistically, he puts his abstract art skills to the test. Thankfully, they’re not as bad as he thinks. By the time he finishes, dawn has broken, but he’s proud of his work. The piece is centered around a shattered heart that is connected by strings made by equations. He knows that if someone were to look closer, they would see it is a mixture of math, shapes, colors, and the image in the middle holding it all together. It’s stunning. It’s marvelous. And for Tadashi, who finds himself feeling caught up in the equation of love way too often, it hits close to home.

(3)

Yamaguchi Tadashi collects the third poem from his mailbox three weeks before his showcase. The poem comes in a light gray envelope, and it comes on the back of a polaroid taken of his favorite winter destination, Yomiuri Land. And — speaking of winter —his eyes drift to the content of the poem.

Once again, he finds himself astonished.

_ i crave how the chilly air bites at my exposed skin; _

_ i like the way it wakes me up on winter mornings. _

_ i crave snow swirling around when the wind won’t quell, _

_ reminding us how beautiful yet how dangerous nature is _

A storm is on the forecast for tonight, so Tadashi opts to stay home and have an early night. He awakens to a few inches of snow covering the ground, and he checks to see if Yomiuri Land is open. It is.

He grabs his film camera and invites Tsukishima along.

(4)

Two weeks before his art exhibition, Yamaguchi Tadashi finds a fourth poem in his mailbox. The envelope is mint green, and the construction paper the poem is written on is his favorite shade of pink. For a second, he thinks about who could be behind the anonymous poems that have been at the source of his inspiration for the past few weeks. Lately, he’s been so caught up in preparing for his showcase (and trying not to fall harder for his best friend) that he hasn’t had the time to wonder. Eventually, he sighs, and he reads the poem. It’s shorter than usual, but it’s still striking.

_ i made sense of your constellations. _

_ traced them with my finger _

_ until they turned to stars. _

Tadashi, for a fleeting moment, thinks that this could be about him. He shakes off the idea, but by the time he reaches the studio, it’s back in his head. He figures it won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, so he decides not to fight it. Instead, on his laptop, he pulls up his favorite picture of him and Tsukishima. In it, his freckles are clearly visible. He thinks back to the first line of the short poem and begins to draw. 

(5)

Yamaguchi’s fifth and final poem arrives exactly one week before his showcase in a pale purple envelope on an index card that looks like it’s been used as a placeholder in multiple books. At this point, he’s given up trying to find who’s been delivering them to him, but he doesn’t exactly care. At this point, if it’s anyone but Tsukki, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to make himself care. He does, however, still care about the poems, especially the one that’s right in front of him. 

_ i feel as if ‘love’ has become a meaningless word _

_ in the extent of our vocabulary. _

_ we say it indifferently,  _

_ no feelings for it to fall behind. _

_ and then we act like foolish children _

_ tiptoeing around the truth, _

_ what it really means. _

_ it's all the same. _

Hours later, when he’s finished his charcoal portrait of himself, one that amplifies the insecurities he’s grown to love, he thinks back to the poem one final time. If Tsukishima Kei comes to mind when he thinks of whom he truly loves —and is truly in love with— , nobody needs to know.

(+1)

Yamaguchi Tadashi’s showcase goes better than he expects it to. He wakes up at six on the day of and immediately takes ibuprofen to lessen the pain of his nerve induced headache. When it subsides, he grabs breakfast and heads to the venue where his exhibition is waiting for him. If he’s honest, he expects about fifty people to show up, but throughout the course of the day, over 200 people filter in. Eventually, the crowd leaves, and he’s about to start cleaning up when he spots a familiar face.

Tadashi beams. “Tsukki! I didn’t think you were going to make it!”

He shrugs. “I lied. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.”

Tadashi watches as Kei carefully observes each part of his gallery. When he reaches the last section, the section based on the anonymous poems Tadashi has yet to find the author of, he notices a change in the other’s disposition. He doesn’t know why, but he certainly wants to.

This time, he doesn’t have to wait long for an answer to his question. This time, Kei slowly walks over to where Tadashi is standing and hands him an envelope he recognizes. He accepts it, hesitantly, and tries not to lose his composure. Instead, he meets Kei’s pleading eyes and decides to open it. This time, there is a card on the inside. 

_ I don’t write love poems _ , it reads.

_ Yamaguchi Tadashi, I don’t write love poems, but if I did, I’d write them about you. _


End file.
